Crowded Enough
by whysowhelmed
Summary: "Pass. Batcave's crowded enough." Thirteen-year-old Richard Grayson adjusts to having new brothers on top of a new team. Can he balance brothers, bullies, and bad guys? Explores the beginnings of the team from the bat boys' point-of-view, beginning with Cadmus. Warning: will include some familial discipline of minors/spanking.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So, I love Young Justice, and I'm still gutted that there isn't a third season. However, I guess we have to make do. I had this idea for a while but have been quite shy about posting it for a few reasons. Please note that there will be some corporal punishment of minors in this story. I understand this is a hot topic issue and will continue to be, and feel free to not read should this upset you. This may be a one shot depending on feedback, or I may continue with it. The bat boys are always fun...

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><p>Today was supposed to be <em>the<em> day. Well, technically yesterday was supposed to be the day: the one day Robin would get a taste of independence beyond the Bat's shadow. As much as he loved being the lesser half of the dynamic duo, he couldn't shake the sting that came with being designated to the kids' table of the Justice League.

He was a hero, damn it.

Though, right now, he felt more like a villain. Once they had rescued Superboy from Cadmus and all damages had been assessed, reality set in. Horrible reality. You're-in-deep-crap reality. Dick would never live it down.

Not only had he hacked Justice League systems, not only _only_ had he sidestepped direct orders (indirect, if he was going to argue, but no way in hell was he going to argue now), and not only, only, _only _had he gotten a building obliterated in downtown D.C. No, he had almost gotten himself killed. Worse, he had almost gotten himself cloned then killed.

He was so dead.

The ride back to the J.L.A. headquarters was silent. Dick could feel goosebumps crawling over his arms as each passing second told him just how deep he was in guano. He clenched his jaw and glanced out the window. What had he been thinking? Right, he hadn't been. Not outside of his desire to show just how capable he was to Batman anyway. And, to show Bruce just how…

That didn't matter now.

A sharp sigh escaped his lungs. Even Batman turned at the sound, ensuring the heightened emotion from his partner was no more than the "I'm so dead" emotion he damn well should be feeling. Even if it had been, Batman didn't trust himself enough to talk. Not enough to speak without screaming at the boy beside him, anyway. Partner or not, Dick was still a teenage boy. Barely teenage. A child, and Batman had come close to losing the child tonight. _His_ child.

Batman gripped the steering wheel tighter, his breath hitching for just a moment at the thought. Dick turned at the sound, though the headquarters looming in the distance pulled his attention away from his irate mentor and toward the beginning of his end of the road.

"So… _they're_ going to laugh about this."

Batman squared him with a vicious look and Dick had to swallow to keep his anxiety from upchucking all over the floor. His nerves were enough to keep him quiet from the black backup car, through to the zeta tube that fed into the Batcave, and halfway into the dark, dank dwelling Robin called home.

It wasn't until he climbed up to the higher level of the fortress that he felt his mentor shift beside him. Anger radiated off of the man, and Dick could sense the gasket about to blow.

"You were told to stay put."

"You told me today was the day. I guess we both messed up." Dick wanted to slap his own mouth at that. Again Batman shifted, and the boy saw his mentor's fist clench out of the corner of his eye. Strike two. Actually, this was probably strike nine-thousand…

Batman's heavy breathing echoed off the walls, and all Dick could do was hope the others were in bed. Right, the others. Maybe if it weren't for them, this whole thing…. No, he couldn't blame them. He couldn't even blame Bruce. This screw up was all on him.

Thick tension filled the space up through the highest level of the cave, until finally they reached the computer at the foot of the entrance.

_If I can get upstairs and just get to sleep, maybe we'll both forget this whole stupid day ever happened_, Dick thought. Then a heavy hand fell over his shoulder, halting him in an instant and holding him in place. _Or not_.

Dick swallowed hard and turned around. He assessed the man in front of him, eyeing the cowl covering the vigilante's face. It had been like this since Dick had first taken up the mantle of Robin: either Robin would have to answer to Batman, or Dick would have to answer to Bruce. The cowl told all. Usually.

A long stretch of silence passed. So long that Dick's mind began operating in overdrive. _Cowl. Scowl. Owl. Bowl. No… Bowel? Gross. _

"You're going to tell me everything. Now. Leave nothing out."

_So much for bowels…_

"You never told us we couldn't leave, just that—"

Batman's eyes narrowed, silencing his pupil. "Just that you needed to stay put. Don't pretend you did not understand your orders, Robin. I'm not having it."

Robin took a few seconds to compose himself, allowing a few deep breaths before continuing. "Fine, so we didn't _stay put_. We also didn't interrupt that sun mission. You didn't seem all that worried about Cadmus, anyway, and the three of us thought we could do some good. I mean, come on Batman! You saw what we uncovered! Can you at least give us some credit? We worked well together tonight, and without any of the League over our heads. I know you're not whelmed over how this whole thing was handled, but we did more good than harm tonight."

"What you did," he started, slowly approaching the boy, "was disobey orders, hack into our systems, break into a burning building, get captured, and nearly get yourself and your friends killed. As much good as you managed to accomplish tonight, none of that means _anything_ if you get yourself murdered. Do. You. Understand. Me?"

Dick hung his head, giving a brief nod. At his response, Batman's own stance eased a little, his shoulders slumping forward in exhaustion.

"For the next three days, until I make up my mind about you and your team, no Robin."

The boy's vivid blue eyes shot up at that, wide and searching. "What?! Three days?! I already have to wait to see if you'll even sanction the team. Isn't that punishment enough?"

"Not for deliberately disobeying orders and not for flouting the rules and using the Justice League systems as tools to try to teach us a lesson. You're not the adult here, Robin. No patrolling until the decision is made. And that's before we even assess your nearly getting killed. You have a lot to answer for, and I'm not about to let you talk your way out of this one. Do you understand, or do we need to increase the time away from patrols?"

Whatever stupid, rash response Dick was preparing got caught in his throat at the sound of movement nearby. A rustling in the cave forced the two heroes to zero in on the cave entrance. There, two pairs of blue eyes met their gaze, their owners glued to the spot.

"Jason? Timothy? You're supposed to be in bed," Batman said, finally peeling back the cowl. Dick breathed out a sigh of relief he wasn't aware he had been holding before turning his attention back to his little brothers.

Jason stepped forward first, thin fingers scratching at his scrawny upper arm. "Just didn't know what kept you, is all. Wanted to hear about the big day. Didn't know it would turn into a big weekend or nothing."

Tim nodded, joining the older boy, his stare on Dick as Robin peeled off his own mask. "How was it? Was it super cool? Did you get to go on a real mission? That's where you were, wasn't it?! I bet you were on a real mission."

"Did you get to fight the Joker?" Jason pried.

"Did you get to fly with Superman?"

"You totally flew with Superman, didn't you? How many bugs did you swallow?"

Bruce cleared his throat, eyes narrowing at the children. "Upstairs. Bed. We'll discuss this in the morning."

"Discuss?" Jason asked. "You only say 'discuss' when something bad happened, and it's not always a talk."

"Upstairs," Bruce ordered once more, his voice booming off the cave walls. At the tone, the younger boys turned on their heels and rushed back up the stairs.

Only once their footsteps had died away did Dick turn back to face his now unmasked father. "You know how excited they were for me? That was ten times how I felt before we basically got a glorified library card."

"You got more than that, and you seemed happy with it before Speedy threw a tantrum."

"Before _Roy_ proved a point," he replied. "I thought this time I'd really be your partner. Not just your sidekick. Not just another…"

He shook his head, allowing his statement to hang in the air. Bruce rubbed a hand over his sweaty face, and for a minute the only sounds were the occasional screeching of bats and the thumping of his heart in his ears.

At long last, Bruce ordered, "Go up to your room. We'll discuss this upstairs."

"Right, discuss. Why do I get the feeling I agree with Jason here?"

Bruce leveled him with another look, and Dick took a hint. Angry, frustrated, even sad, Dick was a lot of things but he wasn't stupid. He knew he had already tested his adoptive father enough. If he took one more wrong step, he was sure he'd be answering for it in a rather uncomfortable fashion. That is, if he weren't already set to. At this point, he halfway wanted to beat himself to a pulp for his stupidity. Then again, why should he waste the effort when Bruce was going to do it for him?

The boy shuddered and raced to get out of his costume, changing out for some sweatpants and a t-shirt before climbing up to his bedroom. The mansion had quieted for the night, though Dick had a sneaking suspicion none of its inhabitants were truly asleep. The fact that Alfred hadn't greeted them told Dick his grandfather-figure was either keeping his new brothers away from the crossfire or was allowing Dick and Bruce some privacy. Neither boded well.

As he continued up to his room, Dick thought on the events of the last twenty-four hours and the roller coaster that had ensued. In the silence and with the lack of his father's foreboding presence, the young teen reflected on his choices and the resulting events.

Would he do it over again? Totally, especially knowing what he knew now. Then again, would he have done it just a few short months ago? Or a year ago?

Before Tim? Before Jason?

No.

Things had changed since then. Sure, he and Batman were still dynamic as ever, but the dynamic in the manor had been changing. Every time Dick attempted to put his finger on exactly what had caused the change, the answer slipped through his fingers.

_Batcave's crowded enough_.

He shook off his own words and crossed into his bedroom, closing the door and preparing for bed. After a quick shower and brushing his teeth, he felt both better and a million times worse. The weight of the last few hours pressed on his chest, and sitting on his bed only provided a small relief. He almost felt as if he were choking by the time Bruce knocked on his door and let himself in.

Bruce had taken the time to shower as well, his black hair brushed back away from his face and a clean shirt and pair of pajama bottoms completing his evening look. Something about the relaxed, familiar appearance of his father allowed Dick to take another deep breath and calm just a little. Only when Bruce stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder did the boy feel his emotions push behind his eyes with a stinging warmth.

"I thought today would be special," the teen muttered, voice weak.

Concern washed over Bruce and he took a seat beside him. "It was supposed to be. I thought it would be. Where is all this coming from, Dick?" At the boy's silence, he tried a more firm, "Richard."

"I thought, you know, since last year things had been changing. First there was Talia, then we took in Jay and then Tim. Don't get me wrong, I love having them around and they're great brothers, but with them starting to train and everything…"

"You're worried you're being replaced?"

Dick shrugged. "Not exactly. Just that things aren't the way they were. And you and me—"

"Will always be you and me, Dick. You don't need to press your independence to separate yourself from them. Let everything take its natural course. That includes allowing me to take the next three days to think about the team," he finished.

The boy looked up, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you really thinking about it?"

"Before we even get to that, I need to make sure of something," Bruce started, his eyes growing darker. "I need to make sure that you're not going to rush into a situation spitefully and nearly get yourself killed."

"I didn't rush into it out of spite!"

Bruce sent him a glare, and Dick had to swallow a lump in his throat. "You tried to prove a point after today didn't go the way you planned, didn't you? Like you said about Sp— Roy earlier."

"Except I have a feeling that Roy isn't having this same sort of talk with Ollie."

Bruce chuckled at that, placing his hand on Dick's back. "Maybe if he had a few years ago, this whole thing wouldn't have happened."

Dick made a face, a half-hearted argument on the tip of his tongue. Still, again most of him knew Bruce was right. He raced into a situation without a clear head and allowed his emotions to take over. While he had performed well enough to allow him to live, half of his ongoing presence was thanks to sheer dumb luck.

And now he had to answer for it.

"How badly are you planning on killing me?" he asked.

Bruce pat his shoulder. "I'm sure you'd rather me clone you and then deal with your duplicate, but you're not going to die tonight. Just a bit of mild torture."

"Mild? You're not the mild torture type when it comes to most things," the boy pointed out.

"When it comes to my children, I'm whatever type allows them to remember to keep themselves safe while also ensuring they do the right thing for all involved. I'm proud of a lot of what you did tonight, Dick. I don't want you to think I'm not. However, how you went about this… I can't let it go and allow this disregard for your safety continue. Do you understand?"

Yeah, he understood. Didn't mean he liked it in the least. Still, Dick would be lying if he didn't see this coming from the second Batman arrived at Cadmus. Hell, since Robin had even come up with this stupid plan.

Didn't make the whole thing any better, though.

A blush creeped into the boy's face as he forced himself to face his father. "I'm thirteen. Aren't I too old?"

"When you get to my age, you'll realize how young that really is," Bruce countered. "I could ground you for the rest of the summer, though. I'm not sure how you'll feel about that, especially if the team gets sanctioned and Robin will not be able to participate for the next two months."

"Two months?! Bruce!"

Before the boy could continue with his outburst, Bruce held up his hand to silence his small teen. "You nearly died. No amount of arguing is going to make me feel better about that. I need to make sure that this never happens again, and that you think about your actions and how they may affect others. I'm not going to allow this anymore if I have any way of stopping it."

Once again, Dick hung his head save for a mild nod. He knew there was no way out of this, and any arguing was only going to make the whole incident worse. After all, while he was never one for fighting discipline, he had witnessed a few times when Jason had continued arguing well beyond what Bruce's patience typically allowed. To say the younger boy smarted a bit the next morning could be a slight understatement.

Looking up to his adoptive father's eyes, Dick knew the man was never unfair. Not with the city, not with the other heroes and their proteges, and certainly not with him or his brothers. Though he was old-fashioned, Bruce was nothing if not a level-headed model for righteous justice. And, in the case of a certain teenage boy, that justice was about to be played out on his backside.

Seeing the embarrassment and discomfort in his son's eyes, Bruce offered, "Trust me when I say I'm not enjoying the thought any more than you are, chum, but if I lose you…"

At Bruce's unfinished statement, Dick watched his father's blue eyes change into a shadowed gray, gazing at nothing at all.

Without another word, Dick adjusted his position so he was leaning over the man's lap. He made a face at the humiliation, situating his hips so they were just over Bruce's right thigh while his chest was supported by the left. His fists gripped the blanket tucked neatly around his bed, bringing his mind to Alfred. How disappointed had the butler been when he heard of Dick's antics? How had both men felt at the realization of Dick's communicator not working?

Forget taking this torture from Bruce; now he wondered why the heck he should have been allowed to escape Cadmus at all.

He felt Bruce adjust, likely stalling to rid himself of his own discomfort, and the boy felt the heavy abdomen heave a deep sigh. Finally, Dick heard a soft, "You understand why you're being punished, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. I disobeyed direct orders, flew into a dangerous situation without thinking, allowed myself to get caught because of it, and almost died."

"You can scratch that third one off," Bruce said. "You can't be prepared for all situations and know for a fact you won't get caught. You can, however, ensure you have back-up plans, a well-thought-out Plan A, and support from those who have been at this game a lot longer. One and two are what you're grounded for."

"So, you're just murdering my backside because I almost got the rest of me killed," Dick mumbled. "So not whelmed right now."

"Neither was I when I heard you were fifty-four stories underground and your life was threatened," Bruce half-growled before giving a stinging slap to the middle of the sweatpants-clad bottom. The smack earned a hiss from his small son, but Bruce pushed his guilty emotions aside and swung again, connecting his hand to the same searing spot as before.

"Jeez!" Dick yelped, jerking where he lay.

"You are never, ever to act so reckless with your own life again. Am I clear?" Bruce snapped, his hand snapping with him.

Dick didn't trust himself to speak, only nodding as the hand continued to smack down on his increasingly-sore backside. His fingers gripped the blanket tighter with each slap, his eyes scrunched shut as his mind cried out for the punishment to stop.

Only when Bruce's hand connect with the sensitive spot between his bottom and thigh did Dick pull his head back and howl, eyes unleashing a few tears. At the sound, Bruce added, "I can never lose you, Richard. I refuse to stand by and allow you to perform dangerous stunts and forget your own well-being in the process. You know better. If you continue to disregard your safety, the spanking you'll receive will be the least of your worries. I'll hang up your mask and cape, and trust me when I say I won't lose any sleep in doing so. Your life matters to me more than the mission, and you are never to forget that again."

Every few words were punctuated with yet another swat, until a steady stream of sobs erupted from the young hero. Finally, feeling his son's anguish as his heaving abdomen lay across his thighs, Bruce lifted the boy into his arms. Silence save for Dick's hitched cries stretched between them for several minutes. A pair of young hands twisted the sleep shirt over the strong chest he was pressed against, and his eyes scrunched closed as the tears continued.

"Shhh," Bruce managed. "It's alright. You're alright. I just hope from now on you think about your life before you run into missions like that. I can't in good conscience sanction your team if I think it will lead to your end."

Dick just nodded, his crying remaining steady until he felt Bruce's heavy hand run over his back. Almost instantly, the quivering sobs lightened. After another minute, only a few silent tears escaped Dick's vivid blue eyes.

"Are you feeling okay, chum?" Bruce asked.

"Uh huh… mostly."

"Not whelmed, I take it." A small smile spread over the both of them, and finally the younger hero pulled away to look Bruce in the eyes.

"Not so much, no." He paused, rubbing the remaining tears off of his reddened cheeks, before adding, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. We just wanted you all to take us seriously. I wanted you to see me as something more."

"More than what, Dick? You're a caring, compassionate, quick-witted, brilliant hero, and an amazing son and brother. You face change and adversity better than men and women twice your age, and you do it with a smile on your face. I see you as more than you think. I also see you as my thirteen-year-old that I intend to keep safe and sound well-beyond the days of teenage whims."

"So, what about twenty-something whims?" Dick asked, signature grin creeping over him.

Bruce sent him a look, though a hint of amusement twinkled in his eyes. "Do this again, even at twenty-something, and you'll see just how good at torture I can be."

"No thanks," the boy waved off. "I prefer just helping you take down the real bad guys, not being treated like one of them."

"Give me three days, and we'll see if you get your chance to do so with a team."

"Swear you're really thinking about it?" the boy asked, wide-blue eyes gazing up at the matching older pair.

"Swear. For now, I just want you to worry about getting ready for bed and going to sleep. You can spend the next few days helping Alfred around the house and spending time with your brothers. Let me take care of the rest."

Dick gave his father one more quick hug. "Don't I always?"

"No," Bruce said, fully smiling at him. "Tonight is enough evidence of that."

"Eh, I keep you young."

"Then how do you explain my graying hair?" Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Easy. Jason."


	2. Chapter 2

**First, thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed! I truly appreciate all of the support! I'm so happy you all thought Bruce's reaction and the conversation between him and Dick were realistic. I hope to continue to make the two of them and all other characters live up to expectations. **

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><p>Dick woke up with a groan as the sunlight pierced through the sliver between his curtains. When the memories of Cadmus and damn near being cloned and killed flooded back, he groaned again. Then, as he stretched and prepared to rise out of bed, the rest of the night's events played back in his head and he groaned a third time, almost collapsing back into his bed and curling under the covers, set to stay there for the rest of the day. Or week.<p>

Bruce had other plans. He knocked on Dick's bedroom door before letting himself in, fixing his tie as he glanced over his curled son. Dick knew how pathetic he looked. Between the fetal position and his face half planted in the pillow, he was well aware how much like a child he looked. At the moment, he didn't find much in him to care. He was tired, his nerves were raw, and he was anxious as his father approached him after the poor evening before.

"Morning," Bruce said, a bit more cheerful than usual. Dick suspected it was for several reason—not the least of which was an attempt to make sure the boy was feeling all right.

"Hey. Morning." He rose fully, eyes trained down on the carpet.

"How did you sleep?"

"Umm, good. I guess? Okay."

His father frowned, resting a gentle hand on Dick's shoulder. The action caused the boy to look up and meet his eyes. "You know I'm not upset with you anymore, right?"

"I know," Dick sighed. "Just overtired. Or wide awake. Wired? I dunno."

Bruce gave a light chuckle at his son's wording, patting him on the back. "Come on, let's get downstairs to breakfast before Jason steals your plate. I don't know how, but Alfred managed to find chocolate chips in this house and decided it was best to get rid of them as soon as possible, so he made chocolate chip pancakes."

Dick jerked his head up again to meet Bruce's eyes, searching for any hint he had been joking (or whatever Bruce's version of joking was), the man just sending him a knowing smile. Chocolate chip pancakes at Wayne Manor was about as rare as a White Rhino, but Dick suspected his bad evening the night before may have had something to do with it.

_Go figure_, he thought, _'Dad' is the tough one and 'Mom' lectures and pampers. Jason and Tim better thank me for this one._

He felt a figurative weight lift from his shoulders just as Bruce moved his hand to wrap around him and lead him downstairs. Every step they took, more heavenly scents greeted them until Dick felt saliva pooling in his mouth. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was sure the only thing keeping him from launching at the stack on the counter was Bruce's gentle grip keeping him still.

"Ah, Master Dick, you're awake," Alfred greeting, adding two more pancakes to the pile. "Glad to see you amongst the world of the living."

Dick sensed the double meaning in his pseudo-grandfather's words. At this point, Bruce had surely informed Alfred about the previous night's events, from Cadmus on, and Dick felt his face flush a little. He brushed aside any ill feelings and pulled the man into a quick hug.

"Thanks, Alfred. Sorry if I scared you."

"Master Dick, I have been through far more frights thanks to a certain bat than what you provided last night. Still, I must request you remember to take better care of yourself. We only need one reckless vigilante in one house, I believe."

He sent Bruce a side glare, the recipient conveniently taking a seat and hiding behind the newspaper's business section. Next to him, Tim and Jason battled over the comics section, though neither one had any invested interest in the so-called funnies, more an interest in getting under each other's skin. Only when Bruce sent them a look did they pause in their war and register their elder brother's appearance.

"Hey!" exclaimed Jason, perking up in his seat. "You never told us what happened last night. Where did you go? Did you fight any big bad guys?"

"I bet he took on Poison Ivy," inserted Tim.

Jason shook his head. "Nah, I bet it was the Joker. Who did you get to fight with?"

Seeing their growing fascination and the impending danger of their questions, Dick waved them off. "Nothing big happened. Went to the Justice League headquarters and hung out some with KF and Kaldur. We went on our own small, uh, slightly unsanctioned mission then came home. Mostly uneventful."

His younger brothers shared a look, but it was Tim that narrowed his eyes. "Since when is finding Superman's clone uneventful?"

Dick's head spun so fast he almost tore a tendon. He gaped at the younger boy for a full minute before finding his voice. "Where did you hear about that?"

"Yes," Bruce said, dropping his paper, "that's what I'd like to know."

Tim just shrugged and returned to his pancakes. "I heard you talking to Clark in your study when we were heading down here. I didn't eavesdrop or anything; just heard enough to get 'DNA,' 'solar suit,' and 'clone.'"

Bruce sighed, rubbing his free hand over his face. "Timothy, how old are you?"

"Eight, sir."

"Please remember to act like it from time to time. I think Clark is influencing you too much. You're turning into a young investigative journalist."

"I don't want to be a journalist," Tim insisted. "I want to be a detective."

"I want to be a ninja," added Jason.

"Well," Dick started, diving into his plate, "at least they came to the right place for both."

In spite of his slight irritation at Tim's knowledge, Bruce couldn't keep a mild chuckle at Dick's last statement. "Very true. Speaking of which, I expect to hear updates on how your training when I get back. Jason, you were working on your aerial moves that Dick had taught you. Tim, I want a progress report on that project you're working on."

Dick's brow furrowed. "What am I working on?"

"You," Bruce started, the smallest hint of a grin on his face, "are going to practice picking locks and use the computer to work out strategies that would have ended the Cadmus mission sooner and more safely."

"Homework? I have homework?"

Bruce stood and grabbed his briefcase, pausing long enough to squeeze Dick's shoulder. "It's part of being grounded, kiddo. Though, if you can give me three well-planned scenarios and get out of similar locks in under a minute, I want some updates on how those new birdarangs are working."

Dick perked up at that, eyes shining brightly at his father. "Sure. I can manage that."

"I figured you may be able to," he said, giving the boy one more pat on the back before doing the same to the younger two. "You three be careful in the cave, stay away from the car, and don't give Alfred a hard time."

"We'll be sure to do at least two of those things," Jason promised, a lopsided grin forming on his face. Bruce just arched an eyebrow in response, though the boys were well aware no more conversation was needed. Bruce was one of the few people they knew who could speak pages with the briefest of gestures.

Once breakfast was consumed and the kitchen was cleaned—largely thanks to Alfred, but the boys knew well enough to pitch in, at least—they changed into their training clothes and rushed to the cave.

"I'm taking the computer!" Tim shouted, running forward before the other two could even respond. Not that they needed to—Jason bolted toward the weapons case while Dick obediently turned himself toward the table carrying dozens of different locks. He shook his head, knowing full-well Bruce had already set the table up for him.

As far as homework went, he had to admit it could be worse.

In mere moments, echoes of clattering keys, blunt-force thugs against canvas, and clicking locks filled the cave. Sounds of home, Dick realized. Just months ago, he recalled a time of relative silence as he worked at his latest training regimen. When Bruce went to work, his only company was the occasional appearance of Alfred and the slumbering bats deep in the cave. He had to admit, he preferred the chorus of activity to his own noise. Not that he would readily admit that to his new brothers.

His mind went back to the night before and his hopes for the next few days. A team. He could have a team, one fully sanctioned by the Justice League, and who knew what missions they could take control over? He began to daydream about the possibilities. His mind flooded with images of him capturing Killer Croc and Count Vertigo, him hanging out with Wally and Kaldur on their slow days with a fully-stocked headquarters, and mostly him earning the praise of his father and mentor.

A few days and that same man's decision stood in the way of those images, though. He bit back as many bad thoughts as he could, though a lingering bitterness soured in his stomach. It wasn't fair. He worked on another lock, torn between throwing a fit and realizing he was lucky in spite of the setback.

Buzzing in his pants pocket interrupted his schizophrenic internal rants. Dick lifted his cell to inspect the incoming message, fully prepared for the text to be a short lecture from Bruce telling him to stop brooding. Somehow, even miles away and without any visuals, the man seemed to know what he was thinking. It caught him by surprise, then, when he saw Wally's image pop up.

_"__Dude,"_ the text read, _"thank your old man for me."_

_"__What did he do?"_

_"__Well, for starters he's to thank for Supes having something other than that solar suit to wear. Also, how does he get a bank card as Batman? What strings did he have to pull for that one?_

Dick stifled a laugh at that, thinking about Batman waiting in line to discuss his credit needs with a disgruntled bank teller.

_"__He has connections…"_

_"__Really?" _Wally returned, _"You don't say."_

Dick shook his head and returned to his task at hand. He felt lighter after the brief pause. While he was not surprised to find Wally had a somewhat calming effect on his shot nerves, a few more seconds of thought revealed something more behind his changed mood. Bruce was providing for Superboy. At least, he was sending him the means to buy clothes and shoes as well as reimburse the Wests for his room and board. While Dick knew this could simply be no more than his father assisting where he thought he was needed, the boy knew there was more to it than that.

Maybe, just maybe, he really was thinking about sanctioning their team.

It was two days later when Dick's hope started waning. His anxiety was hitting a peak, and he knew he was being more surly and sulky than usual. During lunch that day, both Tim and Jason had opted to eat separately and Alfred had to remind him that what Bruce said was law.

By eight in the evening on the third day, Dick's every nerve was shot. Did it really take this long for his father to come to a decision? He had seen him multiple times assess a situation and, within a split second, make a life-or-death choice. Furthermore, as a businessman and philanthropist, Bruce was often called on to make decisions at the drop of a hat.

So why take so long with this one?

Dick's mood certainly wasn't improved by the fact that he hadn't been out to patrol since the Cadmus incident. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire, prickling for action. He needed an answer, and he needed it now.

"I just don't get it," he muttered for the fourth time in half an hour, only half speaking to Tim. The younger boy typed away on his laptop in the library, attempting to decrypt a code Bruce had provided him with earlier in the day as a training tool. The elder boy barely turned to look at the screen, his eyes more focused on burning a hole through the opposite wall than anything else. Had he just chanced a glance, he would have noticed Tim solved the problem minutes earlier and was stalling to keep from fully responding.

"Yeah," Tim mumbled, "Real rough."

"He said three days! Okay, fine, but it's bene three days now. Is it really that hard to answer a yes or no question? It's not even like it's some standardized test or some lab report. It's a simple question. Yes or no. Just answer it already!"

"I thought part of it was because you got in trouble," Tim reasoned.

"Part of it is because he enjoys torturing me," said Dick.

At the sound of a deep voice clearing his throat, Dick felt the blood drain from his face. His skin prickled with a cold sweat, and he slowly turned to face his father. There, in all his three-piece-suited glory, was a serious Bruce Wayne.

"If I wanted to torture you, Richard, I could have by now."

"Yeah…" started the boy, he too clearing a sudden lump from his throat. "I was just saying that, uh, I was hoping that…"

Bruce shook his head and held up a hand, effectively silencing his teen. Knowing when to run, Tim packed up his laptop and rushed out of the room, leaving Bruce and Dick alone with an awkward silence and piles of books.

"You honestly think I'm torturing you?"

Dick just shrugged, though the look Bruce gave him said just how much he was getting away with that response. "I just don't get it, is all. It's been three days and I haven't heard a word about it from you or anyone else. I know you're still mad at me, but—"

"Dick, I have not been angry with you since the night that started this whole incident, and I was more angry at the situation and the way it was handled than solely on you. More to the point, did it ever occur to you that creating and providing for a team, really ironing out the logistics, and ensuring proper safety measures were in place may take a little time?"

Dick paused and thought for a moment. No, he hadn't thought about that. It just seemed so obvious of an answers—yes, I want you to have a team, or no, I want you to be miserable. Simple. The logistics in this case didn't even cross his mind.

And he could see in Bruce's eyes that was another reason for his father's hesitation in answering.

"It's just been an overwhelming three days," he said, curling into the seat he had claimed.

At his son's lack of humor and the position he had taken, Bruce relaxed and took a seat in a chair nearby. "We wanted to be sure all of our bases were covered. We could not sanction a team without fully discussing the options, who would be in support of it, who would monitor its missions and security, and whether it was even an option in terms of necessity and safety. You're all still minors and we needed, as a group, to review pros and cons and put failsafes into place before we went back to any of you with our answer. Do you understand?"

Sinking further into the chair, Dick nodded. He felt his stomach twist in guilt and was sure he had lost a few inches as he listened to Bruce's words.

"So," he chanced, "did you make a decision?"

"I don't know," Bruce replied, eyes turning dark, "I may want to torture you for a few more days."

"Bruuuuce!" He knew he was whining. Still, Dick couldn't find it in him to care. Not anymore. Not after being so close to either having the greatest opportunity (outside of Robin) presented to him or having his dreams dashed to pieces.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce pushed more forward in his seat. "I want you to understand that, regardless of my answer, your safety is always my primary concern. Your happiness is second. What I say and do, and what I could say and do as an overseer of any team you may ever be a part of, is only out of concern for your well-being."

Dick nodded. "I know. Sometimes hard to see it, but I know."

Taking in his contrite son's expression, Bruce took one more deep breath before deciding to put him out of his misery.

"Your team has been given the go-ahead by the League."

Any words he may have had in mind to say next were drowned out by the sight of Dick's eyes nearly popping out of his head and the whoop that bellowed from his tiny form. All at once, that stress and sadness melted away into intense happiness. Dick felt a thousand energy drinks' worth of adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he crashed into Bruce for a hug.

"Yes! Oh yes! We're a team! Holy justice, we're a team!" Dick bounced back up to his feet then collapsed again to hug the man he had nearly suffocated. "You really mean it?! You're really letting us do this?"

Pushing away his smile, Bruce gave a serious nod against the boy's raven hair. "I'm really letting you do this. We all are. It wasn't easy to come to this conclusion, and I need you to know we can disband it if at any point we feel any of you are putting yourselves more at risk than it necessary for the cause. Your team will be covert. Any major missions dealing with the more volatile villains will still be handled by the League. We'll go into more detail tomorrow when we visit the Cave."

"Wait," Dick started, pulling away. "We're operating out of the Batcave?"

Bruce shook his head, smiling at his son's shocked face. "No, out of Mount Justice."

"The original headquarters of the League? I thought that was destroyed. And, you know, not exactly top secret anymore."

"Enough time has passed that we feel it is no longer being monitored by our enemies and we feel plain sight and covert missions are the best bet for this team. If we ever feel that anything has been compromised and your safety is at risk, we will reassess."

Dick let his words sink in, processing everything that had just washed over him. He really had a team. Not only that, but they were going to be given missions by the Justice League and even had their old headquarters! His limbs tingled and he was grateful not to be standing or he may have very well collapsed.

Noting the swelling of emotions on his face, Bruce patted him on the shoulder and gave him a sobering look. "This team will follow my orders and you are to follow my lead. Do you understand? No more going behind our backs or keeping us in the dark. The second we feel you or any of the others are abusing these privileges, the team will end."

"Yes, sir. Understood. One hundred percent."

As Bruce continued on with the warnings, rules, and procedures, Tim and Jason peered through the main door to listen in. In spite of the seriousness in their father's voice, a few other mixed emotions rose in the two as the reality of what Dick had achieved fell over them. Tim, on one hand, felt a sense of excitement for his older brother and a hope to stand beside him in the depths of Mount Justice.

Jason, however, listened with a twisting erupting in his stomach. If Dick was ready for a team and to go on missions, he decided it was high time he venture out on his own, as well. Two birds could play that game.


End file.
